


Dear Helen

by mchicken



Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mchicken/pseuds/mchicken
Summary: First in a continuing series of letter from Mike to his late wife.





	Dear Helen

 

* * *

__

Mike sat on the couch after another long day. Beer in hand, he stared at the Christmas tree. The holiday had come and gone. The turn of the year and Little Christmas* were also in the rear view mirror. Jeannie had left for school earlier in the day so he was alone. The decorated Frasier Fir mocked him like a party guest who refused to leave, waiting to be denuded of ornaments and hauled to the curb. He could not think of a job he hated more.

Decorating the tree was always fun. The shine was still on the holiday; walking down memory lane as he and Jeannie unwrapped precious treasures from Christmas' past was one of his favorite traditions. But two weeks later, the inverse was just one more unpleasant duty to perform.

It hadn't always been his job. He seemed to recall how Helen complained about having to rewrap and package up all the holiday finery, not that she complained about much. He now understood what she meant. Suddenly, the memory of Helen overtook him in a sweeping wave.

It hadn't happened in quite a while, although he could never predict when it would occur. A smell, a taste, an event would make her as corporeal as one of Marley's ghosts. He sat and let the past wash over him. So many good memories, and some not so good. It didn't matter which, they were all precious in his mind.

There was so much he wanted to share with her, but he felt vaguely ridiculous and a little pathetic speaking with his dead wife. He put down his drink and trudged up the stairs, retrieving the yellow legal tablet he kept by the bed for moments like this. He flipped to the next available page.

_January 8, 1973_

_Dear Helen,_

_I don't know where to begin my love. I am sitting here contemplating putting the decorations up for another year, thinking about you. I know you hated this job and until I had to do it myself, I never realized what a dismal duty it really is._

_Jeannie and I still enjoy putting up the tree, but it's not the same as it was with you. It was hard the first year after you left us, God it's still hard, but each year it gets a little easier to embrace the joy that filled our lives with you, without being overwhelmed by sorrow and grief._

_I was thinking about the first year Jeannie was old enough to decorate the tree with us. She could only reach the bottom third and I seem to recall she broke more ornaments than she got onto the branches. Remember how magical everything seemed when we saw it through her young eyes? Where did the time go?_

_I wish you could be here to see what an incredible woman she has become. She reminds me so much of you it breaks my heart sometimes. Not only the way she looks, although thank God she takes after you in that department. She has the same sparkle that attracted me to you all those years ago. Love, you would be so proud of her. Smart, you bet! She puts us both to shame in the intelligence department. More importantly, she truly cares about people. I know I can't take too much credit for the way she turned out, I was too busy most of the time when she was growing up. Really, I just kind of put the final touches on the job you started the day she was born._

_Jeannie's back at college now, so the house seems really empty. She is finishing up her second year of college and before you know it, she will be married and have kids of her own. I know you always looked forward to having grandkids. It makes me sad when I think you won't get the chance to spoil them. Even worse, they will never get the chance to know first hand what a wonderful person their Grandma was._

_You would laugh at how sentimental I've gotten over the past few years about our holiday traditions, I know Jeannie does. I feel like my time with her is slipping away. For the most part she has her own life now, and once she has a family of her own or moves away for good, well you remember the grief we got from our relatives when we wanted to have some holiday time for our own little family. I won't ever do that to her._

_For the first time this year, we included my partner Steve in our holiday. I know I've told you about him. He really doesn't have a family of his own and it felt "right" to include him in ours. I'm sure he thought some of it was a little hokey, but he was a really good sport about it. I don't think I've ever seen him look as comfortable or content. (He'd never admit that!)_

_I think you would have really liked him, although you probably wouldn't have approved of his lifestyle (He's a bit of what we used to call a_ _**ladies' man** _ _) but he is empathetic and has a generous heart. His enthusiasm for life is infectious. I don't think I would still want to get up every morning and deal with the ugly side of human nature if it wasn't for him. I really care for him in a way that's hard for most people to understand because we are so different. I hope he knows how much I love and appreciate his friendship._

Mike put down the pen for a moment. He had never really quantified his relationship with Steve in writing before. It made him even more thankful that the young man had come into his life. Leave it to his beloved, even after she was gone; "talking to Helen" helped him sort out his feelings in ways he never could alone. He picked up the pen, but before he could begin to write the doorbell rang.

When he opened the door he was surprised to see Steve.

"What's this about?" Mike asked his young partner.

Steve handed him a pizza box and looked at the ground self-consciously. "Well, I know Jeannie left today, so I thought maybe you could use some company tonight, but if not, that's ok, I'll go."

Mike shook his head, "No, buddy boy, your timing is perfect. Come on in, beer's in the fridge."

Steve walked into the kitchen and Mike picked up the tablet.

_Gotta go sweetheart, seems I might have some help with the tree after all. Maybe it's the beginning of a new tradition._

_Until we meet again… All my love, Mike_

Steve saw Mike writing on the tablet. "What you up to?"

"Oh, nothing." He put the note paper aside and grabbed a slice of pizza, "But since you're here…"

*Little Christmas is another name for the Feast of the Epiphany (Arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem) It is celebrated on January 6th and is very important to Roman Catholics in Eastern Europe and in the Eastern Orthodox Church.


End file.
